Trust Issues
by Totally-Out-Of-It
Summary: Scott can't understand why Stiles doesn't trust anyone they meet, but when Stiles finally admits why, Scott finds he likes the reason less than he liked not knowing. No pairing. Takes place sometime after season 4.


**Trust Issues**

 _Scott can't understand why Stiles doesn't trust anyone they meet, but when Stiles finally admits why, Scott finds he likes the reason less than he liked not knowing. No pairing. Takes place sometime after season 4._

…

…

The hallways of the Stilinski house were as familiar to Scott as the ones in his own home. He'd been in the Stilinski house almost as much as his own throughout his teenage years. Tonight, unlike recent times filled with a worrisome amount of chaos, was a calm night. But Scott feared it wouldn't be for long – not because of the supernatural, but because of the conversation he needed to have with his best friend.

The evening had started off well, Scott thought. They'd had an easy dinner once the Sheriff got home from work, and then they'd watched a show that the Sheriff liked but that neither of them really got. So they'd feigned being tired and escaped to Stiles' bedroom, leaving his dad to enjoy the show in peace.

"So about Harley," Scott began easily once they'd shut the door behind them. Harley was new at school, a mid-year senior transfer.

Stiles stopped mid-step and frowned. "Did he do something?"

"Well no," Scott hedged. "You've been giving him the stink eye all week and all he did was wink at me."

It wasn't odd for someone to find Scott attractive and make advances, at least, not since he became a werewolf. Especially not since he became an alpha. Scott did kind of wish guys would stop hitting on him though, because he felt bad every time he couldn't return the affection. Still, it was hardly threatening to wink at someone once.

His friend shrugged. "I don't trust him," he explained, his tone tense like he was expecting Scott to attack him. And didn't that just hurt. "Ever since we woke up the Nemeton, everyone who comes to town is a creature. And if they aren't, they soon become one."

Scott gave a deep sigh. "Not everyone is a supernatural creature, Stiles. Harley doesn't smell like anything weird. He's just a guy. A guy who happened to wink at me."

"You don't know that," Stiles upheld with a frown, listing off his fingers, "You didn't smell anything weird on Kira or Lydia, or Jackson for that matter. Not every supernatural creature smells like an animal, Scott."

For awhile now, Stiles had been mistrustful of every single person they met. Everyone new to town was a threat. A student they'd never spoken to before but that _had_ been in town for years was no better. A police background check wasn't good enough to clear them. If the person wasn't already pack, they didn't stand a chance. For Scott, who wanted to accept everyone's good qualities and work past their bad ones, it was hard to understand the exclusive behavior.

It aggravated him sometimes, like now, to know Stiles was so bent on seeing the bad in people. "You're always so against everyone. You didn't trust Allison, or Derek, or Deaton, or anybody," he snapped.

"Okay, for the record," Stiles shot back quickly. " _You_ started it with Derek. I had no issues with him until you told me he was an issue. I'm still not sure what Deaton's about because he's suspicious on a good day. You have to admit that. And Allison? Allison's family is made up of hunters who would've killed you as soon as look at you, so I think I was right to be nervous!"

Shaking his head, Scott took a mental step back. Obviously, this wasn't working. He had to get back on subject, not get so angry. A shouting match would get them nowhere. "That's not the point. The point is that Harley's family isn't made up of hunters. Harley isn't burying dead bodies in his back yard. He doesn't show up to places he shouldn't be. Harley's-"

"Probably hiding something," Stiles broke in, visibly irritated. "You've never been to his house, we've never seen his parents, we don't know anything about him except he's kind of cute, if you like 'em tall, dark, and lanky. And the police records on his whole family are just way too clean, if you ask me."

"He's just some guy! He's not out to kill us!" Scott protested, clenching his fists.

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, I'm sure. His seedy little eyes and twitchy movements definitely inspire confidence, Scott."

"He's only twitchy because you keep staring at him like you're going to find him when he's alone and kill him brutally."

"Good!" Stiles said, with enough force that Scott almost took a step back. "That means I don't have to say it aloud! Because I would, Scott, if that little punk tries anything, I swear. He's not getting anything past me, he's not doing anything to this pack-"

"Why don't you trust anyone?!" Scott asked hotly, interrupting Stiles' mean spirited rant. Only two years ago, Scott would never have assumed his best friend could make threats like this.

"Because I can't!" Stiles yelled back, then lowered his voice just enough that his dad wouldn't come investigate. "Don't you get that, Scott? I can't trust anyone! No one is trustworthy!"

Scott frowned deeply. This was the kind of attitude he just didn't get. Not everyone was out to get them! "Not everyo-"

"I can't even trust myself!" Stiles half shrieked, as if he hadn't noticed Scott speaking, throwing his hands in the air. His eyes were wide and wild, like a captured animal.

That brought Scott up short. What? What did that even mean?

"Stiles?" he asked, confused.

The taller, paler male let out a heavy breath and moved to sit in his desk chair backwards, arms crossed over the back of it. He stared at the wall behind Scott for a moment or two, visibly collecting his thoughts, before he spoke again. When he did, all the crackling anger from before was gone, replaced with weary resignation.

"I can't even trust myself," he repeated, quieter. His voice sped up the longer he spoke. "I can't trust that what I'm seeing is what's actually happening, that what I'm feeling is me, that what I do is because I want to, that I won't snap one day and try to kill someone." Only then did he move his eyes to look at Scott. "Scott, if I can't trust me, how the hell am I supposed to trust anyone else?" and it was a bitter question.

Scott felt like he'd swallowed something that had spoiled and it was stuck in his throat. The Nogitsune. Stiles was talking about his time possessed by the spirit of chaos, of those weeks where reality blurred with dreams, where he couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep, when his body didn't belong to him.

Stiles had been insistent that he was okay once they'd sealed the Nogitsune away. Every attempt to check up on him was met with a stubborn "I'm fine, Scott, seriously. Do I look ill to you?" He'd repeated to everyone who asked that he was better now, he was cured, he was himself again and all that that implied. They'd taken him at his word, believed him, because it was simple to believe Stiles, because even with how often he lied to others, he didn't lie to pack. He didn't smell of pain, he wasn't calling in the middle of the night in a panic, he wasn't disappearing for days, there weren't bags under his eyes, and Kira's mom had assured them the Nogitsune was completely gone.

Obviously, believing the easy end to all their troubles had been the wrong thing to do. Stiles' body was fine, there wasn't a mark on him. All his wounds were internal, and even Scott, his best friend, had missed them.

"Stiles," he started, haltingly. How could he make this right? "If…If you can't trust yourself, trust in us. Trust that I…that your friends, that we'll protect you, help you, or stop you if we need to." He stepped closer to Stiles, held his gaze, and made his voice as determined and strong as he could. "We won't let you become like the Nogitsune ever again. Do you hear me? You are not that thing. You beat it. It's gone. It wasn't you."

"Yeah but I kind of wanted it to be."

Scott startled and Stiles saw it. The human's heart hadn't faltered, his gaze was steady, his body was tense. He meant what he said, but he didn't like that he meant it and he didn't like to admit it.

With a half shrug, Stiles continued, voice level and accepting, "I don't have any special skills. I can't wield a bow and arrow or gun like Allison could. I'm not a werewolf or a werecoyote with heightened senses and strength. I can't sense the dead like a banshee. I don't have mystic spirit aura armor and skills like a kitsune." He gave a sour laugh. "I'm not even good at lacrosse, and I guarantee that I practice and run more than ninety percent of the kids that try out."

Stiles' eyes lowered to Scott's chest, staring at the blue and green fabric rather than at his best friend. Best friend. Scott was a terrible best friend.

Voice a bit hollow, like the truth of his words had sucked all vitality from him, Stiles said, "When I was possessed by the Nogitsune…Scott, I felt powerful for the first time in my life. I could do things like you and the others could. I wasn't…I wasn't dead weight. I wasn't weak. I wasn't being left behind." Stiles lowered his forehead to rest on his arms on the back of the chair, hiding his face and the shame written in every feature for having admitted to his fears.

Scott couldn't help it. He rushed the few steps between them, dropping to his knees next to the chair. He could only see part of Stiles' face from his new angle, but it was enough.

This was so wrong. Stiles had it all wrong! They needed him, and he needed to see that.

"You don't need powers to be important, Stiles. You're smart, one of the smartest people I know," Scott began, a hint of pleading in his tone, pressing for Stiles to just _see_. "Without any wolf in you, you keep the pack together. People listen to you, Stiles, even wolves. You talk and they roll their eyes, but what you've said sticks with them. They remember. People do what you tell them to, even when you aren't around to tell them to do it. That's powerful."

For a few long moments, Stiles continued to simply sit there in silence, and Scott reached up to hold the arm of the chair nervously. He didn't know how his touch would be taken, and that upset him even more than he already was. How far had he let Stiles slip away that he worried about touching his best friend?

Finally, _finally_ , Stiles body lifted with a deep breath and he said, mumbling, almost petulantly, "That doesn't help in a fight. And it doesn't change the fact that I can't trust my own senses anymore, Scott."

"There's more to our lives than fighting, Stiles," Scott reminded him. Tentatively, he reached over a bit more and placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder, causing the other male to turn his head to watch him with guarded eyes. "And like I said, we'll help you with that. If you ever doubt yourself, what you see or feel or whatever, you can ask us," he insisted. "We'll tell you if it was real or not. If there's any doubt, we'll investigate it and figure it out. You aren't alone, Stiles. You have us."

Taking a deep breath of his own, Scott let his fingers tighten on Stiles' shoulder, pulling absolutely all the attention span Stiles had onto himself.

In his most serious voice, Scott finished with, "We're a pack, and pack is family. Family looks out for each other. Like you said, you're my brother. I can't lose you. I won't. Not to anything, and definitely not to this." Not to his own insecurities, his own fears.

"Scott."

Stiles' voice came out sounding like something that had escaped through a crack in a cage, like he'd been broken open and couldn't hold it in. He turned, lifting his arms from the chair back. Scott anticipated and jumped into the hug Stiles was initiating. He wrapped Stiles up tight, tight enough that no evil could ever pull him away, tight enough to scare off both their fears.

"We trust you, Stiles," Scott whispered hoarsely into Stiles' ear. "You may not be able to trust yourself right now, but we do. It'll be alright. We believe in you, Stiles."

The arms around Scott tightened as well, until the hug was almost painful, but even that feeling was comforting. Of course one conversation wasn't going to make everything alright. It wouldn't be easy to fix what damage the Nogitsune had caused. Scott understood that now. Healing wasn't easy, and he cursed himself for ever thinking it was. But, as he felt his shirt catch Stiles' tears, smelled the extra hint of salt in the air, Scott knew he was doing the right thing to start the process.

Stiles had to know that he could trust them, at least. He had to know that he didn't need to guard himself or them from the world, because they would protect each other. He had to open up to them, let them in. Only then could he start to let in other people.

"I trust you, Stiles. If you can't trust anything else, please, trust that," Scott murmured. He didn't care that the arm of the chair was digging into his hip. That pain would go away a lot sooner than the one in his chest.

Throat clogged with tears, Stiles nodded and said, "I think I can do that."

...

...

 _fin_


End file.
